It’s been nine months of laying low inside the house and things are starting to get weird. I figure it’s time for me to come clean about what’s really going on. Just a few snippets should do the trick:
- The layer of dust on the furniture in our home is so thick that my son used his finger to write a Happy Birthday message to my husband, a message that we’ve all been passing by and reading for several weeks now with no apparent inclination by anyone to wipe it off.
- The other day I walked into the room where my son was attending on-line school. I looked at his computer screen and saw nothing. Curious, I asked what was going on. “We’re in breakout rooms alone,” my son explained. “Why?” “The teacher said it would help us concentrate.” Never, ever, did I think anyone would stoop so low as to call that education.
- One of my sons has started meowing. We don’t have a cat, so he’s not imitating anything. He’s simply found a new way of expressing himself during Covid. It’s more unnerving than you might imagine. He uses it as a greeting, an affirmation, and a rejection. I’m not really sure where to go with this one or what to do. Intervene? How? Why? It seems to go perfectly with the state of affairs around here, so I’m accepting it as part of the “new normal” that everyone I talk to references, ad nauseam.
- The other day I asked my youngest son what good shows there were on Netflix. His response, “Queens Gambit, but you and papa won’t like it because it’s really good.”
If you’re up for sharing your strange times anecdotes…leave a comment! Happy Thanksgiving!
Photo by Rafal Werczynski www.unsplash.com